Four's a Crowd
by Lurking Grue
Summary: Overlord 2. Kelda knew he'd come back, but she hadn't known there'd be competition.
1. Prologue

Kelda had heard stories about the strange woman and her witch-child that lived on the outskirts of town. How she danced naked with demons and that her son, with his blue skin and luminous eyes, was a result of it. Others said she was a terrible enchantress and she'd made some dark pact with ancient gods, and the boy was a product of that.

The stories went on and on, none of them nice, all of them fearful, but everyone would smile nervously when the woman would come into town. She was too young to remember when it started, when she carried her strange, tiny bundle with her. They were nearly the same age, Kelda supposed, though the boy was nothing like the other children in Nordberg. He was sullen, swaddled tightly and covered up in furs. His mother was cross and crisp with merchants and she never stayed long, and when Kelda was old enough to start to understand why everyone was afraid and why the woman and her son were strange, their visits had become more and more scarce. Sometimes the other children would complain that he was a bully, but he'd only ever looked at his boots in her presence. The other children, Kelda had long ago decided, were _rubbish_.

The last day they were both seen in town, she recalled, the smithy caught on fire out of the blue. Her parents talked about it in hushed whispers, how the Witch Boy had started it, how his mother had dragged him out of town by the scruff of his neck like a dog.

That was why she was outside of the walls, why she wasn't doing her chores like she was supposed to. Empire Taxes were starting to make everyone poorer and poorer, and her father stayed up late every night fretting and having his eldest look after the home. She had a younger brother, the reason their mother was no longer alive, and so it fell to her to try and sort it all out. What she wanted to do was learn to hunt, to play and have adventures, but instead she was stuck at home with her baby brother, and she was tired of all of it.

Surely the strange Witch Boy, with his cross mother and strange powers, could be a fine diversion from her dreary life. Her brother would be fine with the neighbors, and her father would be out hunting until sundown at least.

The location of the hut was no secret to anyone in town, but as she trudged up the steep hill, the wind brought her the sharp smell of burning. She hurried her steps, lifting her skirts, wishing she could just wear _pants_. Her father couldn't afford new clothes, however, and so she suffered in relative silence.

It was gone. Burnt down. Recently, even, a thin plume of smoke from the embers of the little cottage drifting off into the wind.

Kelda was cross a moment, thinking she'd wasted her morning trekking through the snow to find they'd been killed by stupid townsfolk, but she spotted the strange boy a moment later. He was sitting in front of the burnt-up house, huddled into a ball and shivering despite his thick furs.

"Hey, you!" she called out eagerly, hurrying towards him, "Witch Boy! Did you burn your house down? It must've been _marvelous_ to see."

He turned to look at her sharply, his luminous eyes narrowed to slits, and he huddled in tighter to himself, digging his fingers into his tattered coat.

"Haven't you got gloves, Witch Boy?" she blinked at him, stopping short and tilting her head at him, "You don't talk very much."

The Witch Boy turned away, curled into as tight a ball as he could manage. Occasionally little puffs of vapor would curl away from his scarf-wrapped mouth, the only clue that he was a person and not just a lump of clothing in the snow. Something bad had happened, then? Maybe he hadn't burnt it down on purpose?

A small sniffle drew her attention away from the house again and Kelda frowned, going to sit next to the boy. He turned to glare at her a moment and shuffled away from her, but she followed gamely. The second time, he didn't try to leave, but he still didn't say a word, staring glumly at the remains of the house.

"Where's your mum at, Witch Boy?" Kelda asked after what she thought was an adequate silence, "She's going to be cross that you burned your house down."

He shook his head and his eyes fell down to his boots, which he picked at with his hands. Kelda frowned, trying to discern what he was trying to say without actually saying anything. It was a frustrating exercise, but perhaps she ought to ask only one question at a time.

"Did you burn the house down?" she asked, promptly rewarded with a nod.

She considered, and then asked, "Was your mum burnt up too?"

He shook his head no.

"So she's alive just... not here," Kelda frowned. He nodded, "Is she coming back?"

Another no and a brief, tight hug of himself softened Kelda's expression. She had been sad when her own mum had gone, though the reason was quite different.

"It's okay," she said, boldly taking his hand, which was freezing, "I'll look after you. I look after my baby brother, too."

He jerked his hand out of hers and got to his feet. Kelda scowled and stood as well. He wasn't very tall. Maybe he was younger than she was?

"Haven't you got mittens?" she asked him when he simply stood there glaring balefully. Some townsfolk got nervous when those yellow-orange eyes were fixed on them, but not her. He'd never done anything to her, so why should she be afraid?

The Witch Boy shook his head no and jammed them into his pockets.

"I'll get you some," she determined, frowning again, though gentler this time, "Do you want a hug? When my mum went, it made me feel better sometimes."

Another glare, and Kelda huffed, folding her arms over her chest.

"Well I'll get you some mittens, anyway, even if you're just a grump," she said, stomping back down the hill. It took her a few minute to realized he'd started following her. His expression was impossible to read thanks to his hood and scarf, but the way his eyes were slightly squinted told her that he was confused about something.

"Just because you're grumpy doesn't mean I won't get you mittens," she sighed, attempting to guess at the source of his confusion, "Your hands were really cold. Just because you're blue doesn't mean you like cold, right?"

He shook his head, and then his eyes widened. She didn't understand what for until she pitched forward suddenly, missing a step she would've otherwise noted to be treacherous had she been looking where she was going instead of the strange boy.

Kelda yelped as she tumbled down the steep hill, scrabbling at the loose snow uselessly as she tried to slow her descent. She'd crack her head on a tree or worse-! Something blue zipped past her, and then she hit something. Not hard, she noticed, but her tumble still stopped abruptly.

The Witch Boy had rushed ahead, somehow, and even though he was smaller than her he was holding her up in his arms while she stared at him wide-eyed.

"It's steep," he said. His voice was quiet and he carefully righted her, brushing off the snow. There was an awkwardness to his actions that made her think he wasn't used to touching others, but just now, he was game to try.

"Thank you," she said, smiling sweetly, "You're not just a grump after all, are you?"

He shook his head no and rather helplessly shrugged his shoulders.


	2. Chapter One

She'd always known he'd come back. There had just been a _look_ in his luminous eyes, and she had known she would see him again. Of course, there was knowing, and there was _knowing_, and she'd felt the latter tighten in her belly when the cry went out that some foul magical barbarian was assaulting the town.

They'd only been children when she'd first met him, only his fur-lined hood giving him enough height to be even slightly taller than the strange little demons that fawned over him. She'd been so impressed, when she'd seen him. He could do magic, _real_ magic, not those dreadfully boring tricks some adults tried to pull over on them. Certainly not the disgusting things other boys her age tried to pass of as impressive.

He never said much to her. but he'd understood her even if he barely said two words. He'd trusted her, let her in close, and she couldn't imagine how difficult it must've been for him. Abandoned by his mother, cast out as a mongrel, a witch-child who wasn't even allowed within the town proper... but he had trusted _her_, and that had made her _special_.

It had been so long ago. Ten years, at least, but somehow he'd escaped the Empire and come back.

And still, knowing that in her gut, actually seeing him made Kelda feel a little weak in the knees. She'd tell no one, of course, not even him, but to see him looming over city hall with his creatures like some terrible gargoyle had made her heart do a little flip in her chest.

He'd gotten much taller, for one. And when he'd come down to deal with the loathsome grub Borius, she noticed that he'd filled out properly as well. Boldly, she'd invited herself along to wherever he was going. It didn't matter where, so long as it wasn't Nordberg, where the cruel Empire governor had made her wander around out in the freezing evening wearing only a dress and slippers.

The Witch Boy had nodded at her and offered her his hand, and when she slipped it into his she took note of how _warm_ he was. It was like he had some sort of built in blast furnace, she marveled, and he led her to a clearing. Jagged, bizarre stone surged out of the ground and made her gasp in delight. He did not so much as flinch, pulling her towards the central structure and drawing her in close, moving his hand from hers to the small of her back.

Kelda had looked up at him mischievously, and even though his armor obscured a great deal, she could've sworn he gave her a bashful shrug.

The teleportation was a bit... _odd_, but not unpleasant. _Tingly_, mostly, and it was strange to be weightless for a moment as the magic crackled around her. He kept a firm hold of her until both their feet were firmly on the ground.

That had been... what? All of an hour ago? She was still wandering the roughly hewn fortress, still in relative shambles as the funny little demons labored tirelessly. His wizened demon assistant had winked at her at least ten times when he'd suggested she go upstairs, keeping the Overlord (she rather liked Witch Boy better) down in the throne room to discuss... what? _Overlordly_ things, she supposed.

Gnarl had referred to this area of the tower as the private quarters, but it looked more like a construction project, not a piece of furniture in sight. Where did he sleep, if these were his private quarters? There was at least ten years missing between them, and the newness of the tower suggested to her that she'd stepped into the very start of something. In a way, though, she'd been introduced to it when she'd sought out the lonely, sad little boy out in the snow.

Kelda smiled, remembering sneaking soup and stew out to him, stealing mittens and scarves and boots and whatever else she could find. She never got a _verbal_ thank you, but somehow, that he accepted the gifts and didn't chase her off with a large stick was thanks enough. It felt a bit reversed now, but at the time, she'd almost considered him a pet. Until he went on his little tear through town, set that dreadful tree on fire and was subsequently thrown to the wolves, anyway.

She leaned against a wall, watching the little minions work. They seemed rather hopeless to her, not half a brain between the lot of them, but they got by.

It was so strange to be warm, to be so at _ease_ in this underground fortress of black stone. Perhaps there was something wrong with her, that she was so taken with a man, a _creature_ like him. If so, she was unconcerned. Whatever was or wasn't wrong with her seemed to be paying off.

His heavy footsteps preceded him, his armor clanking as he moved, and she turned to face the stairs, suddenly nervous. Kelda smoothed her dressed, pushed her fingers through her windblown hair, but it all seemed a bit useless. She was dressed as a serving girl and she'd been standing in a snowy Nordberg evening for most of the day – the state she was in was the state she'd be staying in for a little while. There wasn't exactly a place for her to freshen up.

He paused when he saw her and she smiled at him, beckoning, finding his hesitation (if that's what it was) rather charming. She rather liked the idea that he'd thought of her all these years. She'd certainly been thinking of him.

"It's in a bit of a state, Witch Boy," she said as he took the last few steps up and came to stand beside her. He was at least a head and a half taller than her, and that was before the spires of his helm gave him even more height. A bit like a crown, she realized.

He said nothing, only nodding, and she watched him pick at the haft of a massive battle axe that no normal man could hold with one hand. Was he nervous? Was he _awkward_?

"You could say _hello_, at least," she chided, "Or are you mute now? _Hmn_? Go on."

Luminous eyes blinked at her in surprise, and she wondered if anyone ever spoke to him out of turn. Even the bossy walnut groveled, but Kelda wasn't about to start with that nonsense. She'd known him when she was taller than he was – he'd get no quarter from her.

"I was glad to find you still in Nordberg, Kelda," he said, startling her in return, though her surprise quickly turned into a grin. His deep voice echoed a bit in his helmet, but it sounded normal otherwise.

"I was bloody miserable there," she said, "'Twas good fortune that brought you to Nordberg and to me, Witch Boy. Or do you have a name, as well as a voice?"

He was silent again, looking her over more closely, she noticed. She knew that look all too well, but instead of feeling irate, she put her shoulders back a bit, put a hand on her hip. He could look all he liked.

"_Witch Boy_ is..." he tilted his head just slightly, the motion all but swallowed up by his helm, "I like that you call me that."

"Good," she said, "I wasn't about to stop."

They lapsed into a silence, watching the minions scramble. Now that he was here, they seemed to be working much, much harder.

"Where do you sleep?" she questioned, taking a step towards him, closing the distance between them some. He looked like he might take a step back but caught himself. His armor seemed to prevent a great deal of fidgeting, never mind that it hid his face.

"I haven't slept in the tower since I arrived," he admitted, pausing, considering, "In the throne, once. Gnarl was going on about something."

"Been roughing it, have you?" Kelda certainly approved of that. Good to know that he hadn't turned into some soft, spoiled thing. For how the little demons acted around him, it was a bit of a surprise. A pleasant one, at least, "Well, I was hoping there would be something more... private? I really ought to give you a _proper_ thank-you, for saving me from that awful place."

She reached out and traced one of the peculiar white whorls on the blue skin of his arm. It was a little surprising when his posture went rigid, and she shot him a curious look.

"I'll have to ask Gnarl," he said quickly, "Where the bed is. I think... back there, he said, was where the bedroom is going," he pointed towards the very back, but all she saw was scaffolding and brown, googly eyed creatures. He waved vaguely, "He's been overseeing the renovations while I've been away."

"Witch Boy," she said, coming to a realization, covering the smile curling onto her face with a hand, "You've not been with a woman before, have you?"

He didn't say anything, but she got the distinct impression he was looking down at the floor.

"I don't see any _girl_-demons," Kelda said pointedly, "Do you even know-"

"Gnarl explained it to me," he said, his tone sharp, warning, harsh enough to make her blink.

"Tch, I didn't mean any offense," she chided gently, unable to remove her now mischievous smile, "There's no need to get cross. So never, then?"

More silence, and then, very, very low, "No."

Kelda's smile became a grin then and she pressed both hands to his chest, removing any semblance of personal space between the two of them.

"Good," she purred, "I prefer having you all to myself. We've a lot of catching up to do."

"I should go," he said tightly. He took her arm with his free hand – gently, she noticed – and pushed her away so he could step back for the stairs, "I'll... _they_," he gestured to the little demon creatures, "_They'll_ do whatever you say."

"I'll see you later, Witch Boy," she said, watching him turn and practically flee down the stairs. Kelda didn't think she'd be able to stop smiling for a while.

* * *

Gnarl looked up when he heard the heavy, metallic strides of the Master, raising his bushy brows when the young man strode up to him, bristling with nervous energy.

"That was rather... _brief_, young Master," Gnarl ventured, "But don't worry. With practice-"

"There's no bed," the Overlord said curtly. He looked as though he wanted to pace, but kept still, his entire body practically _humming_. Gnarl certainly knew what with, but the way he was speaking... well. This was interesting, wasn't it?

"Soon," Gnarl said, hobbling a bit closer so he could not-so-quietly whisper, "You can just _improvise_ until then, Sire."

"Gnarl," he said, and then more urgently, went so far as to _kneel down_, something that Gnarl flailed his arms in protest at until it was clear he was going to continue to stoop beneath his station. Really, the boy was a little _much_ sometimes, "Gnarl, I don't know what I'm supposed to _do_."

"I thought the demonstration I gave you was quite elaborate," Gnarl said, referring to the reenactment he'd had two minions do as he explained the whole business, "Do you need it again?"

"No!" he said, waving his hands, "No, I... I don't think I'll _ever_ forget it, Gnarl."

"What's the problem then, eh?" Gnarl waggled his eyebrows, "Mistress Kelda looks like she knows her way around those curves of hers. Why, I bet even _I_-"

Though there were times that the boy was little more than a hopeless puppy, his heritage shone through with increasing frequency, and the murderous look that shot out of his helmet silenced Gnarl quickly. Really, though, the girl was _hardly_ a blushing virgin. She could probably get a eunuch enthusiastic over the prospect of a bedroom lesson or two.

"What's troubling you, then, Sire?" Gnarl coaxed, trying to at least shoo him towards the throne. He did as he was bid, sitting on the edge of the stone seat, posture still pensive. Occasionally he glanced for the stairs, as though he feared she might descend and drag him back upstairs by his cape.

Gnarl almost wished she would. It was a bit _embarrassing_, dealing with a nervous virgin Overlord.

"I don't see why I can't just wait until there's at least a bed," he groused, "_I'm_ the Overlord, damn it, you're all supposed to do as I say."

"Of _course_, Sire," the elder minion said, "You do have a lot on your plate, after all. I think you'll find that females like Kelda get, ehn, _cagey_ if their _needs_ aren't met, however."

"We haven't even _spoken_ in ten years," he continued, tone cross and frustrated. It was strange, such a deep voice vocalizing such boyish concerns, "I barely even spoke to her as a child, she made me so nervous."

"_Nervous_, Sire?" Gnarl wondered. It was news to him – he'd been a rather confident child growing up amongst the minions.

"She isn't afraid of me," he said. It was covered by his helmet, but the old minion could hear his frown even if he couldn't see it.

Gnarl wondered if he ought to mention to the lad how much like his father he was just now, but it was a bit of a touchy subject, his father being trapped in an infernal abyss for all eternity and all of that. The wizened demon was the closest thing he had to a father, which was a tad... _out of the ordinary_, in the Overlording business.

He hesitated, looking out at the throne room, at the other minions, but they were all politely not paying any attention to their fretting Overlord. Gnarl laid a hand on the young man's thigh, drawing his luminous gaze, and he offered him a rare, gap toothed smile.

"Mistress Kelda isn't going to think less of you, lad," he assured him, "It takes a certain kind of woman to not be afraid of a conduit of evil. A little _fumbling_ won't chase her off."

His words seemed to soothe the boy and he nodded, shoulders relaxing some.

"I'm waiting for a bed," he said, straightening up some, narrowing his eyes. Gnarl removed his hand and chuckled, bowing as much as his back would allow.

"Of course, Master," he said.


	3. Chapter Two

Kelda could not recall an instance in her life where she'd been _spoiled_. She'd heard that's what father's did to their daughter's, what parents did to their children, but she'd never experienced it. Her life had been all hard work. Nose to the grindstone, scratching out a living in a frigid, unforgiving wilderness. They hadn't been farmers or weavers or _breadmakers_, though, her family. They were _hunters_. Everything they had, they had earned.

So when the Witch Boy would leave for days and return with armfuls of things for her – _specifically_ for her – she'd been shocked at first. She'd even chastised him, for spending gold on such silly things that she'd only mentioned in passing, but when he would stoically assure her he hadn't paid for most of it she had quickly given up on that line of thought. Some of it, _surely_, was so exactly what she wanted he must've paid _something_, but his insistence was difficult to argue with. Why shouldn't she accept such fine gifts, after all? She'd earned them. It wasn't as though she'd led a soft, easy life.

He had cut a swath through Nordhaven, securing a ship to Everlight and trying to find some way through some aggravating elvish gate. Kelda had asked to go along, to fight with him, but Gnarl had expressly forbid it. Why the little walnut was allowed to bark orders when no one else was, she was a little unclear on still. He bowed and scraped to her Witch Boy most of the time, and then turned around and gave him _helpful suggestions_ that he almost always went along with.

Even if his position was suspect to her, she was certainly in no position to question it. At least he allowed her to look over his shoulder as he guided the Witch Boy through the recently risen waterway that would eventually take him to Everlight, even going so far as to allow her to pipe up every now and again.

It was a little nail-biting at times, watching him fighting with the elves, but once he was through the gate proper it seemed like it had meant to happen the way it had. She still wished she was there. All he had ahead of him for awhile, Gnarl predicted, was smooth sailing.

With a quiet sigh she sat back and stretched, realizing that they'd spent most of the day cooped up in the little scrying room.

"I hope he's got proper meals to eat in that thing," she frowned, watching Gnarl rub his eyes and shake his head, refocusing on the more immediate world instead of the view through his Master's helmet, "Didn't really have time to pack, did he?"

"They can always roast a brown or two if things get desperate," Gnarl said, offering her a gap-toothed grin and winking when she eyeballed him dubiously.

"Lovely," she said flatly.

"He'll be back safe and sound before you know it," he gave her a rather bizarrely paternal pat on the knee that she didn't know how to react to before he winked again, "Then you can give him a tour of the newly completed private quarters, hmn? They ought to be done by then."

"I wish you wouldn't _wink_ like that," Kelda said, standing and smoothing out her skirt, following the hobbling creature out into the massive halls automatically, "Anyway, I hope you don't hint at _him_ like that when I'm not around. He's a bit nervous."

She tilted her head and quirked a brow at the demon, "You really never... I don't know, _brought_ him any girls? Isn't that the sort of thing you do down here?"

"Kidnapping maidens for deflowering would've attracted undue attention before he was ready," Gnarl said, surprising her with his prompt answer. He'd thought about this, "Other things took priority. Normally we don't have to raise our own Overlord, you see, so things have been... touch and go."

"Just leave the deflowering to me, Gnarl," she said wryly. Her brevity didn't go all the way through, however. It was still all a bit strange to her, the thought of him being raised by a mob of weird little demons.

"_Do_ be gentle," he retorted. While all his fellows seemed to be on the slower side, the aged minion possessed an unusually sharp wit. Perhaps her shared-brain theory was an accurate one, and he simply had a majority of them.

"I'm a Nordbergian," Kelda said airly, "_Gentle_ doesn't factor into it."

Gnarl cackled lecherously, waving a few minions into the scrying room to keep an eye on the unremarkable (hopefully) part of the journey as he wound his way up to the private quarters with her. She wasn't sure if he was walking with her, or if he had some other purpose to be there, but she didn't mind his company for how strange he was. The other creatures weren't even half as adept at conversation.

"Gnarl," she asked without thinking, gnawing on her lip as they reached the top of the stairs, "Is he... you know him really well, don't you? I knew him before you did, but you've known him much longer."

"Better than he knows himself, I think," Gnarl said. He looked guarded, taking a step back from her so he could look up at her better, his big eyes squinting slightly.

Kelda opened her mouth and then shut it, feeling a bit silly and flustered all of the sudden. Really, it was foolish. They'd barely even shared a complete and uninterrupted conversation together, but with all the talk of her deflowering him, and with all Gnarl's bloody _winking_... so much had happened in such a short amount of time, and it had all sort of bypassed her brain. She was out of Nordberg, with the one person she liked (and his weird pets). Couldn't that be enough?

"He's capable of caring for others," the wrinkled minion guessed, smirking when she looked taken aback, "Being evil doesn't mean you don't have feelings, you know," Gnarl gave a rather offended sniff, "Can't really wage a war on things shiny if you don't _care_ about destroying it utterly."

"I'm not sure that's exactly the sort of care I'm thinking of, Gnarl," Kelda said. He'd given her pause at first, but being capable of hatred was a far cry from... desiring the companionship of others for purposes other than sex. If that's all she was to him, she supposed it'd be fair enough. Sort of. Well, she wouldn't be happy about it, but she often got the impression that he wasn't _entirely_ human. The glowing eyes, for starters. The patterned blue skin for another.

"He razed a rather large company of Empire troops to get you out of Nordberg," Gnarl said, "Given, it was going to happen with you in it or not, but the lad had a lot more enthusiasm than usual."

Nice as it would have been to take that notion and run with it, Kelda was pragmatic to a fault, and she only raised her eyebrows slightly at the little creature. She was certain that the little demon knew exactly what she was getting at, even if she wasn't being entirely clear. It was bad enough how turned around she was, that she'd even started the conversation in the first place was even worse.

With a sigh, she sat on the edge of the stone bench that had served as her bed for the past few weeks. It was piled high with luxurious furs, the private quarters still not _quite_ done, and it was just as well since he was never really in them.

"Does he have a name?" she asked, changing the subject, "Sire and Dark Lord and Overlord all seem a bit... well. _Silly_."

"You're right," Gnarl said dryly, eyeballing her on her perch, "Witch Boy is considerably more dignified."

Kelda eyeballed him right back, and he grinned.

"I'll see you in the morning then," she sighed, "I don't see why I can't go down to Nordberg to pass the time. I'm not fond of this waiting around and doing nothing."

"It's not safe, not while the Empire is still in power," Gnarl said, his grin fading and his voice shifting to something more stern, "You're looked after well enough here, are you not?"

"I don't need looking after," she said, "But I suppose. It's just so bloody _boring_. And the other half of the time, I'm biting my nails, certain he's going to get his head chopped off."

"Oh, it will be something much worse than a beheading," Gnarl assured her cheerfully, "Our last Master got trapped in an infernal abyss."

"Your last master," she said, patting the edge of the bench for him to join her, "His father, then?"

"Yes," the elder minion allowed her to help him up with a groan, and he blinked when she drew one of his gnarled feet into her lap, groaned again when she started to rub. It was a shameless attempt to get him to spill the beans, but her Witch Boy wasn't very talkative and her curiosity was starting to gnaw from the inside out.

"What about his mum?" she frowned, "You know, when I first found him, it was sitting in the snow outside a burning cottage. I'm fairly sure he was the one who set it on fire, but..."

"Mistress Rose was a lovely woman," he sighed, closing his eyes and enjoying the footrub, "The Master was quite fond of her, of course, but once he vanished she was never her usual self. Stormed out of the Tower. Well, waddled, really. Insisted she couldn't possibly have a baby in such a place."

"This tower?" Kelda interrupted.

"Mm-mn," Gnarl muttered, "Another one. You're quite good at this, you know."

"I know. Gnarl," she gave his foot a squeeze and he cracked one eye open, "So his mum was a bit daft, then, and his father is trapped somewhere. And then you raised him? Is that right?"

"Evil always finds a way, my dear," he sighed, closing his eye again, relishing the attention, "Not even Rose gave me _footrubs_. She'd stroke my ears, though, like I was some sort of family dog."

"She couldn't be that lovely if she left her poor little boy out in the snow," Kelda protested.

An eye cracked open again, "I certainly don't agree with what she did, but I'm sure she had her reasons. We found him soon enough, anyway, after you were so kind to look after him for us. Overlord's are... a certain _sort_. They need a bit of _steering_."

"Some more than others," she said pointedly. Gnarl only smiled lazily and shrugged his frail shoulders, and she smirked at him, starting on his other foot, "He seems a bit... well. _Hapless_ sometimes."

"Not much of a people person," Gnarl said, "Raised by demons and all that. He's got the instinct, though. I did worry, you know, even though both his parents were quite dedicated to their work. It's not always a hereditary thing. And when it is, I've certainly never had to look after the end result until now."

"Why did you?" Kelda wondered, "Surely this isn't the first time a woman had a baby with glowing eyes and decided to leave it on a doorstep."

Gnarl shifted slightly, eyeballing her, but she only smiled and continued to rub his feet.

"His father was... well, I rather _liked_ him, all things considered," Gnarl said, "I couldn't just let his son grow up like a feral dog, could I? Least I could do. He never kicked me and he _listened_. Marvelous chap, really. Had everything well in hand until that whole unfortunate infernal abyss business."

"Hmn," Kelda said, mulling it all over. It was all a bit sad, really. His mum had gotten pregnant and then his father gone and gotten himself stuck in some horrible hell dimension, leaving her to raise the baby in some big empty tower filled with googly eyed demons. She could certainly understand leaving that sort of situation. Leaving her son, though, _that_ she didn't quite get. Too hard to be reminded of her former lover every time she looked at him, perhaps?

Kelda turned to ask Gnarl something else, but he'd drifted off when she'd gotten lost in her own thoughts, and she couldn't bring herself to wake him. He was such a sweet looking little walnut when he was asleep. No sneaky looks or smirks, just a bit of drool. And his big, floppy ears twitched occasionally.

Careful not to disturb him, she tucked some of the furs around him and curled up herself, though sleep eluded her for some time. Her own past was unremarkable, but his seemed so... tragic. Was it a good idea to get wrapped up in this sort of thing? Gnarl talked about all of it so casually, like it was just a matter of course.

Given, being the consort of some Dark Lord was going to have its perils, but did it always have to end in tragedy?


	4. Chapter Three

She was angry with him. Impossibly, _massively_ angry with him. Bad enough that he'd shipwrecked because of the woman's breasts (they were _fantastic_!), he'd gone brought her back with him when he'd wrested Everlight from Empire control. Wasn't like he could just leave her there in amongst the other enslaved townsfolk. Besides, she was pretty. Very pretty.

_Extra_ pretty, really, with her olive skin and long hair, perfectly curled and arranged just _so_. She even put on make-up, and as far as he could tell, she was basically just wearing a sheet and nothing else. Juno was everything a typical Nordbergian woman wasn't, and those were the only sorts of women he'd ever seen. Well, them and his mother, but he wasn't counting her in this instance.

In retrospect? It hadn't been a decision he'd made with his brain. Gnarl had said something, and then she'd said a lot of things that had made him squirm under his armor, and then he'd brought her back with him. And then she'd commented on Kelda being some sort of scruffy peasant servant, and it had gone sharply downhill from there.

His first attempt to placate her had involved reasoning that he'd brought a friend back for her, so she had someone to talk to besides Gnarl while he was away. She'd thrown a shoe at him. _Hard_, too. His helmet had rang a bit – she'd nailed him right in the head with it.

Juno was no help, either, pointedly ignoring Kelda and purring sweet things at him. Occasionally, in an equally sweet voice, she would ask for something and before he knew it, she had it. And it only made Kelda more furious.

Gnarl was exceedingly unhelpful as well, which was a bit of a first, his reasoning that an evil Overlord shouldn't have to be monogamous. It was a big tower, after all, and why choose when you could have whatever you wanted? While he was inclined to agree with Gnarl, it wasn't working out as well in practice. Not at _all_.

He liked Juno. She was outrageously pretty, and everything she did seemed to be arranged just for his benefit, and he appreciated flattery. Kelda was a bit more... _complicated_ than Juno.

"You'll have to get them sorted out sooner or later, Sire," Gnarl edged into his thoughts and he looked up, drumming his fingers on his thigh.

"Kelda's upset," he said, even though it was obvious, "And Juno wants me to send her back to Nordberg since she's not a servant."

"Perhaps they'll disagree, my Lord, but _you_ are in charge," the old minion observed, "Not _them_. Pick one of them to be First Mistress, and the other one can be a... lady in waiting. Of a sort."

"I really thought they could at _least_ be friends," he said, turning in the throne to peer up the winding staircase, "Kelda told you she gets bored waiting around all the time, didn't she?"

"Women are strange creatures, Lord," Gnarl said patiently, "I imagine Mistress Kelda wanted to have you to herself, and Mistress Juno is likely concerned she won't get as many presents with the Nordbergian wench around."

"She _isn't_ a wench," he protested archly. Gnarl didn't respond, but he did pretend to look mollified. Good enough.

"The longer this goes on, the more you're embarrassing yourself," Gnarl told him glibly, "Handle it, Sire."

Much as it irritated him, the little creature was right: he needed to deal with it. After all he'd done so far, this part would be simple, right? It was only two women. They weren't armies or sorceresses or even _armed_. He pushed up out of the throne and clanked up the stairs, though every step seemed like just that much closer to the hangman's noose.

They were positioned on opposite ends of the room, Kelda stewing on her furs and Juno letting her bare feet dangle into the warm pool. Both of them looked up when he entered, glancing at each other venomously.

"Come to your senses, I hope," it was Kelda who spoke first, standing and angling her chin at him, folding her arms under her breasts.

"There is nothing _sensible_ about _that_ ensemble, honey," Juno drawled, her smile sweet but her tone vicious.

"Call me honey again you trollop!" Kelda hissed, balling her hands into fists, "I _dare_ you!"

"All right, settle down," he forced himself to act, much as he might've enjoyed seeing the two of them fight, "There's no reason you can't get along."

"_No reason_? You big, stupid _pig_!" Kelda spat. It took a lot of willpower not to flinch, her shoe ringing off his helmet still fresh in his memory, but she seemed to be restraining herself for the moment.

"_I'm_ willing to get along, of course," Juno purred, finally standing, daintily shaking moisture off of her toes, "She's just so _stubborn_. Not a good quality in a servant. Believe me, I know."

"_You_-!"

"Juno, Kelda isn't a servant," he said, forcing steel into his voice and coming to stand at the edge of the pool, "She was my first Mistress and she isn't going anywhere."

"_Was_?" Kelda and Juno said in tandem, Kelda sharply and Juno with relish. He put up his hands and waved them a bit to keep them from flying off the handle again.

"She still is," he said. For the first time since he'd taken her, Juno scowled, and she folded her arms as well. Kelda, on the other hand, looked surprised and vindicated, one corner of her mouth twitching into a small smirk.

"That's just stupid," Juno said, "She doesn't know the first thing about being a Mistress. If _I_ was your Mistress, I-"

Though he was most definitely listening, Kelda cut her off with a, "He doesn't care about your silly nonsense. I'm First Mistress, not you, so you can just... piss off!"

"Where? To the bedroom?" Juno smiled sweetly again, but there were obvious fangs behind it now, "Well, I suppose I'll manage-"

"Witch Boy!" Kelda growled, "If you're going to keep this vapid... _harlot_ around, I think you ought to get some ground rules established."

"There's a big empty space across from my bed, isn't there?" he said rhetorically, "You go tell Gnarl what you want the minions to build for you and they'll do it. And that'll be _your_ bed, and Juno can sleep out here."

Juno stamped a foot, huffy, but she seemed at a loss for words. At least momentarily.

"And _she's_ not allowed in," Kelda said. Her cheeks looked a bit flush, and he wondered if she was upset, or pleased, or just all around embarrassed by the situation.

"Fine," he said.

"_And_ she's got to listen to what I say," she tried.

"To a point," he said, watching Juno look more prickly by the moment, "If you've got a problem you can come to me about it. Or Gnarl."

"Gnarl won't arbitrate a damned thing and you know it," Kelda said, "You know what his solution was? To turn the pool into a mud pit and settle things 'the old fashioned way'."

He didn't know if he was amused or annoyed to hear that, but his expression, as always, was hidden within the confines of his helmet.

"I didn't sign up for this," Juno said mutinously, "I don't suppose there's any chance _I_ could be First Mistress?"

"Possibly," he said, expecting a shoe again. Kelda didn't seem phased, however, confident she could keep her position secure.

"Hmph," Juno tossed her hair, "Well, you'll come around eventually when you get tired of pale, rude scullery maids."

"Watch your mouth, Empire," Kelda hissed, crossing the distance over to him and lighting a hand on his arm, "I'm not happy having her around, Witch Boy, but I suppose this'll do."

She leaned up on her toes and kissed his helmet, and he cleared his throat, putting a hand on her shoulder and squeezing.

"I'll go talk to Gnarl," she said when she was back on her feet, giving them both a wave, "I know _just_ the thing for the bedroom."

When the two of them were alone, Juno approached him, far more bold and brazen than Kelda had been. She pressed herself flush against him, pouting, her eyes dark and hot and making him generally uncomfortable. The good sort of uncomfortable, though. Kelda had introduced him to it, actually.

"You'll come around," she purred, running her hands along his arms, swirling her fingers on his gauntlets, "I can wait. If you were happy with just her, you wouldn't have brought me here."

Unsure of how to respond to that, he just remained silent, and she seemed satisfied enough because she pulled away, sashaying over to the bench and disdainfully picking furs off of it, dumping them onto the floor.

"I'm going to need silks, my Lord," she said, nose in the air, "Be a dear and get me some?"


	5. Chapter Four

It was crowded in the scrying chamber with Juno there. With her big arse and her oversized bust, it was a marvel any of them could _move_ into the smallish room.

Gnarl, situated between the two of them, didn't seem to mind.

Kelda didn't have much to offer the Witch Boy as he thumped onto the docks on the Empire shore, but she wasn't going to let Juno purr in his ear for hours or days without at _least_ supervising. The wretched bitch had information about the little blue creatures, and so she was proving _useful_. Lucky for her Witch Boy, less lucky for her.

Juno seemed less than pleased with the task, her attention waning from time to time as he waded through the Empire forces. While Kelda was on edge as he crept around the Sentinels, Juno sighed and leaned back, twirling a lock of chestnut hair around a finger. Gnarl was in his ear, at least, keeping a close watch over him.

"Does it usually take him so _long_ to do things?" she complained, "I mean how long are we going to sit in this stuffy room?"

"You try fighting your way through that many soldiers," Kelda said archly, eyes narrowing, "I guess you could do it on your back, couldn't you? That _would_ be faster."

Juno looked up sharply, but she let the insult wash over her a moment later, pulling her fingers through her hair. Gnarl was distracted by it, flicking hopeful looks between them, keen for a catfight. Kelda got a handle on herself, tempting as it was to give the old minion a show. No sense getting into a tousle when their focus ought to be on her Witch Boy. She looked like a hair-puller, anyway.

"_Ohh_," Juno leaned forward suddenly, something catching her eye, "A sedan chair!"

Kelda scowled as she prattled on and on about all the luxuries of Empire living. Spoiled brat. How could she live with herself, just getting by on being pretty and nothing else? Kelda couldn't even _imagine_ being that slack, but look where it had gotten her. The Witch Boy practically drooled all over her, and all she had to do was shake her arse and pout her lips.

She shifted unhappily in her seat, folding her arms as Gnarl cut in, twisting the sedan chair into something of an advantage instead of just a pretty decoration. Kelda wasn't sure what to make of this whole 'Mistress' business now. She'd felt special before, and now... _now_ she wasn't really sure _what_ was going on. He'd been out and about heaps since he'd grabbed Juno, basically leaving the two of them to their own devices, so it was difficult to get a solid grasp on the situation. The situation being, of course, did he _care_ about the bronze-skinned tart, or was she just a mistake that he'd eventually correct?

Even after a good footrub, Gnarl had nothing to offer her on the subject. Just more sly winking that made her want to twist his ears off.

Kelda tuned in when Juno expressed disdain for something – sewers – and she snapped back to attention again. Frogs and slums, and the slave folk kept thinking her Witch Boy was a gladiator. That brought a bit of a smile to her lips. He had that look about him, didn't he? Most people weren't so broad shouldered, and such ornate armour wasn't all that common either. It was good cover, save for the whole_ blue skin_ thing, though she imagined a lot of folks were assuming it was paint.

Her smile faded when he ventured into the belly of the arena _alone_. She didn't like it one bit. It didn't seem right, him trudging along without his little demon things, and her fingers twisted into her skirt. He could take care of himself, but...

Even Gnarl looked a bit more serious. The minion didn't let it creep into his voice, however, glib and cheerful as always.

Her worry began to fade just slightly as he fought his way through the winding underbelly of the arena, hot on the trail of the Blue Hive. Juno only sat up at attention when he paused to look out at the arena proper, lamenting how much she would miss this particular Empire activity. Kelda didn't really agree with it. Fighting was fine, but there was nothing sporting about putting some poor sap in an arena with a tiger. A _fair_ fight, now _that_ was interesting. It was a test of skill instead of pointless bloodshed.

The Witch Boy didn't linger long, pushing ahead, heavy footsteps echoing off of the marbled floors and high ceilings. All of them leaned in close when they saw what was waiting for him.

"Solarius," Gnarl narrowed his eyes.

"_Marius_," Kelda added, eyes widening when the rail thin man rather drolly ordered the anti-magic shield to go back up. But anti-magic – it would kill him!

"Witch Boy!" she shouted, "Look o-!"

But it was too late. The image in the scrying glass flickered and went black. Gnarl and Kelda were both slack jawed a moment, as neither of them had even remotely considered that the Blue Hive had been _bait_.

"Is it broken?" Juno wondered.

"They might have killed him!" Kelda snarled, "Didn't you _listen_?"

"I just sort of tune Marius out," Juno's brow knit, "So it's not coming back on?"

"I bloody well _hope_ so!" Kelda looked to Gnarl. He'd have something hopeful to say, wouldn't he?

Gnarl looked worried, which wasn't a comfort, "He... _might_ be all right. Let me work on getting this working again. You girls just go ahead and.... and waft about," he gestured vaguely, "I'll call you when it's working."

"All right, then," Juno flipped her hair and left, just like that. Kelda didn't move, hands clenched into fists so tight her knuckles were white. Why had he brought her to the tower!? Why was he keeping something like _that_ around? She didn't even _care_.

"He'll be all right," Gnarl said quietly, surprising her by making eye contact and holding it, trying to comfort her, "He's like his father. Resilient lad. I know these Empire types, anyway. Probably throwing him into the arena instead of killing him properly."

"Killing him _properly_!?"

Gnarl didn't answer, but he did shrug before he went back to work, spells fizzling left and right. Apparently, whatever the anti-magic shield had done had really mangled something.

Kelda didn't like the feeling of dread that gripped her, not at _all_. She wanted to pace – no, she wanted to go to him, to _help_, but realistically, there was nothing she could do. What hope did she have, huntress or no, against the Empire guard? She was a capable woman, but she knew her limits, and she certainly wasn't capable of busting the Witch Boy out of whatever situation he'd gotten himself mired in.

Gnarl's words about his death being 'much worse than a beheading' came back to haunt her. They'd barely even had time to talk, and to have him stolen away so suddenly, and so... _brutally_...

Something in her clicked, sympathy for the Witch Boy's mother, a woman she'd maligned for quite awhile. What had it been like for her, heavy with child, to hear that the her lover had been sealed away in some hell dimension, never to return?

She looked at the wizened minion again, and even _his_ face was twisted up in concern. Was it the slavish devotion he had to his master that put the expression there, or was it something more paternal?

"Is it fixed yet?" Juno returned with a nail file, sitting down and crossing her legs, and Kelda felt her jaw tighten.

"Almost," Gnarl muttered, "It just... _damn_ this contraption!"

He hit it, _hard_, and suddenly it flickered back to life. An angry yeti dominated the field of view, but only for a moment. A barrel flew towards the Witch Boy and he _barely_ ducked out of the way, taking cover in the hole the explosion had created – they were _exploding_ barrels!? - and pressing himself into hiding. The scant few minions with him looked a bit rough around the edges, and Kelda couldn't help but wonder how _he_ was doing. But he was alive, she reminded herself, and that was something. Focusing on negatives just now was counterproductive.

"There you are, Sire," Gnarl's expression read relief loud and clear, but his voice reflected none of it, instead projecting his usual droll confidence.

"Oh, we were _so_ worried," Juno said, barely flickering a glance at the scene.

"No you weren't!" Kelda said, "You were painting your nails!"

Juno rolled her eyes and said nothing more – her nails weren't going to do themselves. Kelda kept quiet, not wanting to distract the Witch Boy from more important things, like _staying alive_.

He managed to bring part of the arena down on itself, and as he limped towards the exit that Grubby had dug up for him, Kelda left for the throne room in a hurry, picking up her skirts as she _ran_ there. Soon enough, the teleporter activated, dropping the entire group off on the floor rather unceremoniously. Some of the minions began to drag the yeti out of the room, business as usual, but a few others were desperately trying to keep their master upright.

"Witch Boy!" she went to him but she stopped short, certain that if he fell on her they'd both end up in a heap. Only one luminous eye peered out at her, his armour battered and cracked in places, and he fell to his knees, then forward onto his hands. He coughed sharply and blood oozed out from under his faceplate, dripping and drooling onto the ground.

Kelda crouched at his side, grasping his helmet since she couldn't grab his face. She wasn't going to panic, and she wasn't going to make a scene, but she knew he needed to be patched up right quick. Coughing up blood wasn't good for anyone.

"Gnarl!" she shouted over her shoulder, "Gnarl, he's hurt! Oh, how do you get all this _off_, Witch Boy? We need to tend your wounds."

He coughed again, put a shaking hand over one of hers a moment, and collapsed face first on the ground. Kelda felt as though a vice was crushing her heart – his blood was just as red as hers was.

"Is that _blood_?" Juno said from behind her. Kelda shot her an icy look, but Gnarl arrived on the scene, barking orders at some browns. It took a few of them to get him upstairs and into the private quarters, and by the time they'd heaved him up onto his bed, some blues were underfoot. They began to remove his armour while Kelda hovered at the foot of the bed, watching. Part of her was compelled to leave, to let him keep his privacy, but to hell with that. He'd coughed up blood – she was staying to make sure he was all right.

Something warm and dry slipped into her hand and she looked down to see Gnarl there. He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze and smiled encouragingly. She nodded at him in thanks, the vice loosened some. If Gnarl thought it was going to be all right, she'd trust that.

Juno was lingering in the room, Kelda noted, and her expression was one borne more of fascination than real concern. Kelda supposed she couldn't blame her, since all the Overlord was to her was a purveyor of gifts, but it still rankled her to see the woman that he'd brought home acting so blasé about his grave condition. She shook her head and turned back to the Witch Boy, very curious to see what had been hidden underneath his armour all this time.

All of his skin was the same cobalt blue, whorled with the strange white pattern as well. His armour didn't exaggerate his solid build, either, but she wasn't going to ogle _just_ now. The blues left his helmet on until the very last, she noticed, carefully undoing the faceplate before lifting it off.

Kelda winced – where the helmet had been dented in, his face was a bloody mess, so much so that she couldn't really _see_ much. He had stark white hair, closely cropped, and the white whorls where a bit more delicately patterned on his face.

The blues crowded in then, obscuring her vision, and Kelda sat at the foot of the bed to wait, helping Gnarl up when he struggled to join her.

Gnarl patted her knee when the blues finally pulled away – he was still a bloody mess, but his chest was rising and falling with even breaths, and she finally took a deep one of her own. Handy little buggers, those blues. Right, she was through just sitting around staring.

"You get me some rags and some water," she ordered one of the creatures. And to Gnarl, she explained, "He's a mess. I'll just clean him up."

Gnarl winked (oh, she could just _slap_ him!) and soon she had what she wanted in hand. Ignoring the wrinkly old thing, she began to gently dab at the blood, some of it dried, some it quite fresh. There were no wounds underneath – the little blue demons had seen to that, lovely things – but there was still a great deal of blood, and scarring where the more dire wounds had been. He was tough, her Witch Boy, and she couldn't help but be proud of him. Kelda was eager to hear about how he managed for so long when he came around.

"So is he going to be all right?" Juno had come further into the room and Kelda ignored her, letting Gnarl deal with her. Worthless trollop. She was only pretending to be concerned because she saw her rival fussing over him.

"He'll be just fine," Gnarl assured her, "Takes more than this to keep an Evil Overlord down. Well that, and the blues patched him up before he lost an important amount of blood. Handy, that lot!"

She was silent for awhile, watching Kelda gently clear his face of blood. Kelda smiled to herself, a bit bemused as she revealed a not altogether unattractive face. She'd been expecting something a bit more... _terrible_, she supposed, all protruding teeth and horns, but his face looked relatively normal aside from being blue and decorated in a strange white pattern.

Feeling strangely guilty for seeing him without his helmet while he was unaware, she looked over her shoulder, first to Gnarl, who was more interested in staring at Juno's chest, and then Juno herself, who was wearing a rather curious expression. When she noticed Kelda watching her she cleared her throat and looked down, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. It slithered out again a moment later.

"You can get me some fresh water if you want to help," Kelda sniffed, turning back to her task. Juno returned quietly, a minion with a bowl of water in tow. Well, it was something, anyway. She wasn't sure if it was good or bad, Juno coming around to realizing the Overlord was more human than she'd originally thought. Or, at least, more attractive.

That, or she just wanted to be present when he woke up, so she played the part of concerned and attentive Mistress. The floozy didn't wind up picking up a rag to help, and it was just as well. Kelda didn't want her grubby hands all over him anyway.

Eventually the Empire woman got bored (or uncomfortable, Kelda couldn't tell and she was doing her best not to care) and sauntered out into the main area of the living quarters, to lounge or whatever it was she did all day. Gnarl remained, however, and he sat down on the bed near his master's head, studying him with an inscrutable expression. Had he had a bit of a fright, like she had, imagining him dead? Gnarl had said the current situation was an unusual one, with the old minion being more like his father than his advisor. Maybe his black little heart had skipped a beat or two when he'd seen the state his surrogate son arrived in.

Gnarl reached out a hand and stroked the white-whorled blue brow, "Young Master," he coaxed, "That's enough lazing about, I think."

His eyes fluttered and Kelda drew her rag back, smiling and leaning forward some.

"Gnarl...?" he croaked, slitting one eye open, a hand coming up to cover the one that had been injured. Both were fine now, but he was quite disoriented.

"You're good as new, lad," Gnarl gave his young charge a gap-toothed grin, "Kelda was just tidying you up."

The Witch Boy looked over at her and took his hand away from his face, blinking at her. She offered him a small wave and a shrug.

"You're an awful mess," she said, putting on a bit of a gruff tone to cover her relief, "It would be a lot easier if you just bathed yourself instead of me going over you with a cloth."

He looked down at himself and hurriedly pulled a few decorative pillows over his lap. Kelda was certain her heart did a little flip at the adorable bashfulness of it all, but she ignored it. Mostly.

"Oh, like I haven't seen dirty knickers before," Kelda scoffed. It was marvelous to watch his expression twist up in embarrassment instead of leaving her to guess at what might be under his helmet, "And have you gone mute again?"

"How are you feeling Sire?" Gnarl prompted.

"Fine," he finally spoke, clearing his throat, "I'm not sure _how_... the blues?"

Gnarl nodded, "Patched you right up. We've got the Hive and the Empire knows you're not to be trifled with. The Demon Lord of Nordberg, indeed!"

"They were blaming me for the Cataclysm," he said, and Kelda noted that he was flicking near-_constant_ looks in her direction. _Someone_ was a bit insecure without their heavy shell on.

"They'd blame bread going moldy on you if they could," Gnarl waved a hand, "You just rest and clean up. I'd say you've earned a few days reprieve, eh?"

The Witch Boy rubbed the back of his neck and shrugged, nodding. Kelda smirked – he was rarely keen to disagree with Gnarl's suggestions.

"Kelda has things well in hand," Gnarl observed, "Rest well, Sire. Shall I send Juno in as well? To help you recover, I mean."

She pursed her lips and the Witch Boy looked at her sideways. Kelda was surprised to see reluctance on his face, the gears turning behind his luminous eyes. He was quite expressive, she noted, perhaps a habit gained from being hidden behind metal all the time. She quite liked it.

"She'll wander in on her own," he finally said. Gnarl only bowed, shuffling off of the bed and out of the bedroom. He managed to catch Kelda's eye and wink again, and she resisted the urge to hurl the wash bowl at him.

The silence that followed his exit was an awkward one, though wholly on the Witch Boy's part.

"Don't you scare me like that again," Kelda said, wringing out the rag and dunking it again, wiping some blood off of his square jaw. He held still for her obligingly, not quite meeting her eyes.

"I wasn't really expecting to be taken captive and made to fight in an area," he said.

"All the same," she angled her jaw up, "I don't like thinking you're dead."

He caught her wrist as she pulled the cloth away to rinse and she blinked at him, watching him study her, and she couldn't help but smile.

"Pity you've been hiding such a handsome face under that silly helmet of yours, Witch Boy," her lips curled into a cheeky smile, "I'd of had you stripped to your knickers sooner."

He let go of her wrist, whatever had been in his throat dying before it could pass his lips, and his expression was decidedly _bashful_. Was he _blushing_? It was difficult to tell, but his face _did_ look a bit blotchy.

"I don't think I need a few days rest," he said,changing the subject and watching his hands instead of her, "I know I agreed to it, but the blue's really did a bang up job. It'll make things easier from here on out, having them."

"Do you even feel a _bit_ tired?" Kelda asked him, drawing his gaze as she set the bowl and rag aside.

"Not really, no."

"I've got an idea, Witch Boy," she said as she sat closer to him, resting a hand on his thigh, "Would you like to hear it?"

"...yes?" he said. He swallowed hard afterward.

Kelda leaned in close, knowing her breath would be hot on his skin as she whispered into his ear, "Kick the trollop out for tonight and we'll have a bath. Just you and me. I can show you my hunting scars."

She leaned back, only just enough to look him in the eye, holding his gaze. Even when they were children she'd refused to be intimidated by his strange eyes. He didn't answer right away, moving a hand slowly and hesitantly to touch her face, his skin rough against her smooth cheek. Had she rendered him mute again?

His answer was to close the distance between them with a kiss. Kelda had never been happier for him to forget how to speak.


	6. Chapter Five

Juno had suspected that Kelda had designs to prey on the Overlord when he'd been vulnerable, but she hadn't expected her to _seduce_ him. She wasn't even sure how such a raggedy, unpleasant woman had wormed her way into the Overlord's good graces to begin with, but seduction? Unimaginable.

But it had happened all the same. How could she not overhear? There was naught but a heavy curtain separating the main bedroom from the common room, and that was _after_ she'd been banished to the throne room 'until further notice'. At first she had been mortified, and then annoyed, and then she hadn't even been able to fall asleep for all the uncouth _grunting_ and _snarling_. She'd eventually drifted off once they'd gone quiet, both cranky and determined. Cranky because she hadn't gotten there first, likely a product of her own cowardice regarding the intimidating blue man, and determined to out perform the redhead and unseat her from her completely undeserved place as First Mistress. What did she even _know_ about being a mistress, the common born _whore_?

Now awake, she frowned and ran a hand through her chestnut hair, peering around the room with a sullen expression. Some of the weird little _thingies_ were ambling around, and one of them turned its bulbous eyes to her when it noticed she was awake.

"Breakfast for Mistress?" it asked her.

"And be quick!" she snapped, chucking a decorative pillow at it. The creature obligingly took the pillow in the face before scurrying off. It was hardly satisfying if they _enjoyed_ punishment, and she huffed, rolling onto her back and staring at the ceiling. _Apparently_ it was morning, but it was so difficult to tell underground!

She had to remind herself that she'd do well to avoid complaint, to at the very least keep it to herself. There were far worst positions to be right now, and she could tell the Empire was on the outs. That meant the Overlord's regime was on the rise, and she prided herself on being attached to the right people at the right time, no matter how vile the person seemed to be.

The Overlord was... she wasn't sure. Not as vile as she'd been expecting, but she still couldn't figure out what it was that would get him wrapped around her little finger like the ginger barbarian had already managed. He'd taken her as a mistress, and he seemed more than inclined to fetch things if she demanded it loud enough, but that was as far as it went.

So far, it was Kelda he'd taken to bed, and not her. That had to _change_.

"Busy day, Empire?"

Juno didn't so much as twitch her eyes over to the source of the smug voice, but her jaw did tighten. She opted to ignore Kelda, though her ears were sharply tuned to her now as she moved across the marbled floors and into the pleasantly heated pool. The redhead exhaled a luxurious sigh that made Juno want to tear her hair out by the _roots_.

"Get used to sleeping out here," Kelda said, a challenge in her voice now, and a confidence that Juno did not care for one whit.

"_Don't_ get used to sleeping in _there_," Juno said, terse, "He doesn't keep me around out of the goodness of his heart, you know. I've seen how he looks at me. You're not as special as you think."

She shot a scathing look over at the redhead, who was frowning darkly in response to Juno's words. Juno's eyes moved over her, noticing bruises and scratches on her pale skin. No surprise, considering the noises she'd heard. Not encouraging, either, but perhaps the wench had goaded him into it?

"You stay away from my Witch Boy, _Empire_," Kelda hissed through her teeth. She'd hit a nerve. _Good_.

"I wasn't aware that you were his keeper as well as his mistress," Juno drawled, "Or have you forgotten that part? The _mistress_ part."

"Stuff it, trollop."

Juno let her words stand as they were. Kelda could think she had the last word, but she knew her own words would gnaw at her for awhile afterwards. She'd chalk up that round as a win. Silence reigned in the private quarters until breakfast was brought to them, accompanied by Gnarl. Lounging, Juno stayed on her side and merely let one of the googly eyed monsters hold up a tray for her. Kelda had since thrown some clothes on, and she even thanked the little beasts as she took a tray for herself.

"Where's he run off to, Gnarl?" Kelda asked. Straight for the bacon, too. _Ugh_, how did he _stand_ her?

"Oh, you know," Gnarl fluttered his fingers, though Juno noticed his expression was a bit dodgy, "Overlord business."

"Taking over Empire City?" Kelda guessed, narrowing her eyes a bit. Juno would give her some credit – she didn't let the Overlord's major domo slip anything past her.

"In a roundabout way."

"_Gnarl_. Where's he gone?" the redhead was concerned now, but Juno was only intrigued. He'd survived that nasty business in the arena, so surely there wasn't anything much worse than that?

"Well, the old tower had this handy thing called the Tower Heart," Gnarl said, his voice lilting as though he were speaking about the contents of a sock drawer, "Some mysterious woman appeared and suggested he take a look at the old tower as a warning of what his hubris might bring him. You know, the sort of the thing mysterious old women usually go on about. Turns out, there are bits of the tower heart just laying about. So, he'll be a bit occupied gathering those up, I imagine."

"That sounds dangerous," Kelda scolded, "Why aren't you watching him?"

"Just making sure you fine ladies haven't torn out each other's throats," Gnarl said, "I understand our Dark Lord has continued to favour Mistress Kelda, hmn?"

"And don't you forget it," Kelda said, a bit sharp instead of her earlier smug. Juno decided she'd take that one as another win.

"Well, eat a healthy breakfast, hmn? And we'll get one of the blues to patch up the nastier scratches," Gnarl eyeballed her appraisingly, making the redhead visibly uncomfortable. Juno didn't blame her – sometimes she was convinced the little creature saw them as livestock instead of people.

"I don't mind the scratches," the redhead insisted, her lips curling into a wicked little smile, "That Witch Boy is a rough one for not knowing his way around a woman. I dare say he picked it up quickly."

"Of course he did," Gnarl looked rather comically proud, "He had it all explained to him very thoroughly, I'll have you know. One of my better lectures. In any case, best we keep you in good condition!"

Kelda rolled her eyes, and Juno was tempted to do the same, though she refrained from doing so, focusing on picking at her breakfast. There wasn't very much fruit, was there? It wasn't easy to get ahold of underground, she supposed. It probably spoiled quickly. She was certain all the heavy food would be hell on her figure before long – she'd have to register a complaint, personally, to make sure he brought some more exotic food back with him. Wherever he was didn't sound like a place that would have much of it, however. Some sort of tower weirdness? Juno found it best not to know too much about that sort of thing. What was going on around the tower itself was more important.

Gnarl only hovered for a bit longer before he left them to eat, presumably to go and oversee what the Overlord was up to via his little scrying thingy. Juno had tried to keep tabs, but it was so boring, watching him run around murdering things.

"You aren't even a little bit worried, are you?"

"Why should I be?" Juno shrugged one shoulder and picked at a biscuit, "He's obviously very powerful. He'll be fine."

"He isn't _invincible_."

"Nearly."

"_Nearly_ doesn't cover everything," Kelda said crisply, bolting down her breakfast and speaking out of the corner of her mouth (ugh, _manners_!), "I'm going to go keep a watch on things."

"Mmhn," Juno was already ignoring her, opting not to follow. What could possibly go wrong that hadn't already?

That _what_ turned out to be a very, very big one. She wasn't sure how long he'd been gone – a few days, at least – but when she'd heard Kelda's outraged shriek all the up in the private quarters? It bore investigating. Juno rarely let herself do anything undignified, but she took the stairs down two at a time, one arm desperately holding her prodigious chest in place. It was rather bothersome at times like these!

She arrived in the throne room just as the teleporter activated. First, she saw a mob of the little minions hauling a massive, rather intimidating looking orb through. Then the Overlord. And then, the _woman_. No, not a woman, an _elf_.

And didn't she look oh so very cozy standing next to their Dark Lord? Kelda stomped in from the scrying room then, merely shooting the Overlord a scathing look before heading upstairs, but Juno stayed put, observing the new woman warily.

"We have a guest," she said with false sweetness, "How _wonderful_."

"Dark Fay will be staying with us," he said, rather curt.

"You're _very_ generous, my Lord," the elf purred, running her nails down his plated chest, "Will she be one of my servants?"

The smug bitch looked her up and down like she was common chattel, and Juno tried her best not to let it sting too much. That she was getting a taste of her own medicine was hardly lost on her.

"Juno is one of my mistresses," he explained, "She'll show you upstairs. I expect you all to get along, like we talked about."

The last bit was added with a bit more conviction than his last lecture, and Juno couldn't help but wonder how many other damned women he intended to keep in his... what was it now? A _harem_! As if she didn't have enough trouble competing with a common ruffian, now she had some sort of... elvish queen to contend with!

"Right this way, honey," Juno said, popping her hip and pouting at the Ovelord, "You'll come up and visit us soon, won't you?"

"I'm a little busy," was his curt response. She was more used to his rather puppy-dog responses to her advances, and the cold shoulder was a bit jarring. Juno didn't let it rattle her, though. Whatever he was doing, obviously he was getting close to reaching some kind of goal.

He stomped off to have a chat with Gnarl, and the elf woman peered down her nose at her with an expectant look on her face.

"I said, right this way," she repeated, moving up the steps, swaying her hips and peering over her shoulder, "Where did he dig _you_ up?"

"He showed me true power," the elf licked her lips, and though she was clearly walking, her natural elvish grace made it seem more like gliding, "How could I resist?"

Juno doubted that was even the half of it, but she just arched an eyebrow in response.

"Well, here's how it is," she said as they moved into the private quarters, "We sleep out here – this bed is mine, so I guess you can take that one over there. Beyond that curtain is where his Blueness sleeps, as well as his first mistress."

"I'll be sleeping there, then," she said with confidence. Juno smirked. She was actually going to enjoy this.

"His first mistress is a Nordbergian wench," Juno said, hoping it summoned said redhead from wherever she was sulking.

"_You're_ the wench, Empire!" Kelda took the bait, stalking out of the curtained room with her hands balled into firsts. She pointed at Dark Fay, "And _you_! I don't know you're story and I don't care to. Just stay away from me, the both of you, you bloody _vultures_."

Dark Fay looked more amused than anything, her smile infuriatingly placid.

"She's a bit oversensitive about the whole _mistress_ thing," Juno flapped a hand, "You'll get used to it."

"Bugger the both of you," Kelda spat, stalking back through the curtains with heavy steps. Juno sighed and arranged her hair a bit, turning to the elf and sizing her up. She'd sort of overstated things with her outfit, for sure. A leather corset? _Really_?

"Don't get too comfortable, pet," Dark Fay spoke with such gentleness that Juno almost missed the threat, "I doubt you're half as clever as you think you are."

"He's interested in _real_ women," Juno gestured to her curves, turning her nose up. Dark Fay was a bit more like what she was used to competing with. Except for the elf queen bit, "Not dainty faeries."

"Our power was one for a few moments," the elf said, almost breathless, closing her eyes, "He's _magnificent_."

Juno didn't care for the sound of that, looking her up and down again. She had power, too? Was she some kind of elf witch? Just what she needed, someone who could turn her into a frog. _Ugh_.

"Well, I hope you've got a hobby to keep you busy," Juno said dryly, "Because he seemed awfully uninterested before."

"He's driven now that he's so close to his goal," Dark Fay said, "Once he grinds the Empire under his heel, he'll be _much_ more attentive. It's difficult to imagine, I suppose, the burden of the crown. You lesser creatures know so little of it."

"You're hardly a queen."

"I was Queen for a very long time," Dark Fay's eyes glittered with sudden malice, "You would do well to remember that, you inspid cow."

For once, Juno did not have a retort. Not even perched on her tongue – the elf's expression had withered any back talk she might've thought of on the vine. Instead, all she did was swallow and drop her eyes, even giving ground to leave the dark elf to her business. Whatever it was. Juno had no desire to find out.

This was an extremely unpleasant turn of events, and she stayed huddled on her bed, brushing her hair until Dark Fay wandered out of the room, having finished throughly inspecting everything. Just to unsettle Juno, she was sure. Once the wretched elf had gone, she threw caution to the wind, swallowed a very large piece of pride, and scurried past the curtains she was supposedly forbidden to. Who was going to stop her, exactly? The googly eyed things? They mostly just _stared_.

"Piss off, Empire," Kelda snarled, "I'm not in the mood!"

"Listen, honey," Juno took a hard tone, something she very rarely did. She preferred others think of her as an... inspid cow. If they thought she was dumb, they'd underestimate her, and that made them easier to outflank. This was an extenuating circumstance, however, "We've got a big problem, and she's got pointy ears and wears a corset."

"A ruddy _elf_!" the redhead exclaimed, momentarily forgetting how much she hated Juno, it seemed, with a new target to focus on, "He's lost his mind."

"I think she's dangerous," Juno said, "To us. More than just being in the running for first mistress," Kelda scoffed and Juno snapped her fingers in place of slapping her. It was difficult to dial back, "Look, I'm _serious_. She just about turned me into ashes by looking at me. We need to watch each other's backs while the Overlord's off Overlording. I don't think she's going to play nicely."

"Watch each other's backs?" Kelda narrowed her eyes, "What? Trust _you_?"

"Who else have you got?" Juno said pointedly.

"The Witch Boy."

"He isn't _here_," Juno stamped a foot, "Maybe he'd frown on it, but that's about all he can do while he's off having little adventures with his minion entourage. Are you getting my point yet, Nordberg?"

Kelda slitted her eyes, and Juno's shoulders sagged a bit in relief. Good. She got it. Would she accept it, though?

"We're human, so he's obviously got a _type_. We need to make sure we remind him of that."

"She's a redhead," Kelda pointed out.

"Be smug about it later," Juno rolled her eyes, "Are you still with me, Nordberg? We need to do more than watch each other's backs. We need to _work_ together."

"What?" Kelda blinked, "What are you on about, Empire? We don't have to lift a finger 'round here. It's a bit disconcerting, actually-"

Juno rubbed her temples and paced. Really? Was she this dense? Was she really this clueless about the point of having a damned harem!

"We need to take him to bed," Juno supposed she'd just spell it out, "Both of us."

"Wh...what!" Kelda stammered, horror etched on her face, "Absolutely not! That's-! With _you_!"

"Oh come _on_, honey," Juno smirked, popping a hip to one side, "You didn't dabble a little with your girlfriends? You know, stir the boys up?"

"No!" the Nordbergian's pale cheeks turned a quaint apple red, "That's... _no_!"

"Well, you'd better start coming around to it," Juno said, "Because two is always better than one, no matter how pointy one's ears are."

"I can't even imagine...!"

"This is how the game is played," the Empire woman said, taking a seat on the edge of the bed and sizing the redhead up. Her body was no secret since she'd strutted around without shame after bedding the 'Witch Boy'. A bit hard for Juno's tastes, but still obviously feminine, if in need of a bit of tidying up.

"Don't look at me like that," Kelda snapped, "I'm not _your_ mistress."

"It might help you relax a little," Juno purred, twirling a perfectly curled strand of hair around one finger, "If you gave it a try."

"_No_," Kelda said. She was eyeing Juno off like she'd turned into a tiger.

"Interesting little plan, cow."

Both women stiffened then, whirling to look at the curtain, where Dark Fay was now standing. Juno blanched. She was sure she'd seen her leave, but she didn't make any damned _noise_ when she walked, so it was safe to say she'd just been lurking and waiting and _eavesdropping_. Shit!

Neither of them spoke, watching Dark Fay as she blinked slowly at them, her lips pursed slightly in amusement.

"I already told his Dark Majesty how _eager_ I am to get along with you two, however," she said, "He did insist it was very unlikely, but he'd be quite pleased and impressed if managed to act as a catalyst of unification."

Juno flickered a look at the redhead, who had the annoying gall to look _wounded_, but she kept her focus on the elf.

"Not sure why you're telling us," Juno said, "Since we're definitely not going to help you claw your way to first mistress."

"That's just it," she purred, "Isn't it? If we don't do it, then he'll be disappointed, and will know to confide in _me_ about it since the two of you are so... _volatile_. And if we do, he'll be pleased I managed it, but unfortunately, pleased with the two of you for being agreeable."

She let out a tiny 'hmn!' and spread her hands.

"It's up to you, I suppose, which way you'd prefer him," Dark Fay smiled. It was a very unpleasant expression, too sharp on her face to be kind, "Disappointed or pleased."

She gave them both a mocking little curtsy, purred, "Ladies," and left them to their previous conversation.

Juno sat in stunned silence for a few minutes before she slowly looked over at Kelda, for whom things seemed to finally be sinking in. Her position wasn't assured. It was solid, perhaps because of her past with the Overlord, but by no means permanent.

"That _slag_," Kelda finally huffed, all bravado.

"She turned _my_ threesome into _her_ foursome," Juno had to respect her guile, even if it was absolutely infuriating. She raised her finely sculpted eyebrows at Kelda, "Well?"

"I don't have much of a choice now, do I?" the redhead practically had a black stormcloud over her head, "Need to give that Witch Boy a good talking to when he gets back."

"Wait until after," Juno smirked, "It's the best time to ask for things."

"Bloody vultures," Kelda scowled.

Juno only smiled sweetly and said, "All _three_ of us circling the same kill."

Kelda looked unamused, but she didn't argue. Juno decided that was another win for her.


	7. Chapter Six

He'd been certain that absolutely _nothing_ would top the send-off he'd gotten from his mistresses. While he did have to give Dark Fay some credit for organizing it like she'd insisted she would, all three of them got high marks for actually going through with it, for apparently even _enjoying_ it. Even Kelda had later, in private, confided that it hadn't been as awful as she'd anticipated.

She'd also sternly warned him not to get used to it. He supposed it would be too much to ask for all of them to get on _all_ of the time.

All of that seemed to be a vague fog as he took in some Empire courtyard, spattered with foul blue ichor, his blood singing with freshly acquired power. There he stood, shoulders heaving, while his mother looked on, cloaked in her voluminous robes. He was still unsure of what to make of her return, and of her motives. She'd helped him in the name of 'balance', but did that mean she'd be _against_ him now?

He wasn't sure how he was meant to feel about that, _or_ her. She'd left him all alone. Not even a note, either, she'd just claimed to be going to the market and never returned. He'd managed, obviously, but it didn't quite endear her to him.

She had been watching him for awhile now from a distance, hands tucked into deep sleeves, what little of her expression he could see neutral.

"I suppose you'll head back to your tower to celebrate," she said, voice dry. He shrugged at her and then rolled his shoulders, uselessly brushing at still-wet ichor. It smelled _awful_, "How long do you suppose it will last, hmn? A few months at best before you're drawn into another life-or-death scrap?"

"With whoever you decide to pit against me, you mean?" he said. His expression was hidden by his helmet, but he glowered as hard as he could.

She didn't flinch, but the corners of her lips tugged down into a slight frown. He supposed she was used to whatever sort of menace his father had put out, and added to that, she'd willfully left him to his own devices, so it was possible she was simply unaffected by his mood.

"I wouldn't mind a proper look at the new tower," she shifted the topic so suddenly, he couldn't help but blink. It was a tactic Juno used when she felt she'd lost control of a conversation, and it _always_ worked on him.

"So you can get a better idea of where to send a lackey to kill me?" he persisted, deciding to _not_ let it work for once, "I don't think that's a good idea."

"I'm not going to try and kill you, son," she said. The word sounded awkward on her tongue.

"I have no reason to trust you."

She was quiet a moment before she finally approached, catching the edges of her hood and pulling it back. Ten years had passed since he'd seen her, but he didn't think she'd aged too dramatically. Her vibrant red hair was a bit duller, shot through with grey, and her face had a few more lines, but she was still (he assumed – she was his _mother_, after all) an attractive woman.

Rose managed a thin smile.

"I'm capable of a great deal," she said, "But I don't think murdering my own flesh in blood is quite within my grasp."

They fell into a heavy silence, Rose looking up at her son with a strained smile, and her son looking down at her with a conflicted expression. Smiles had always been a rare thing from his mother, so much so that he barely recalled seeing them at all. The older he'd gotten, he presumed, the less she'd been inclined to.

"I was raised by my own minions," he said, frustration seeping into his voice. He'd felt that he'd finally come into his own lately, grown into his Overlord boots, so to speak, and his mother was making him feel like he'd set the hedge on fire while she'd been busy cooking dinner. He was a little boy in her presence, not the man he'd become over the course of reclaiming his birthright.

Rose drew a bit closer and reached out for him, tentative and quiet. He was possessed with the urge to swat her hand away, so much so that his hand twitched and caused his mother to back up a step and frown. While he wasn't about to apologize, he simply gripped the haft of his axe with both hands, squeezing it. It struck him that such a thing might be much more intimidating, but his mother understood what it meant. Gently, she laid a hand over one of his, apparently unconcerned with all the foul-smelling gore he was drenched in.

Her expression twisted up strangely for a moment and she looked up at him, her smile, while tight, sincere. She'd seemed so incredibly tall when he'd been a boy, and now he dwarfed her by a fair amount. Given, he towered over _most_ people, but it was still a oddly jarring.

Slowly, she eased one of his hands off of the axe, her hand slender and small compared to his, and she put the other over top his knuckles.

"I'm sorry I left you," Rose said softly, almost imploring.

An apology, he thought, was hardly enough, but he felt himself nod at her before he was conscious of it. Whatever else she had to say, though, she could say in private. The minions were staring, enraptured. One of them was sniffling and he shot it a hard look.

"We can talk in the tower," he said, loosening his hand (he hadn't realized he'd been squeezing hers) and gesturing her close. She was an old hand at teleportation, and when they shifted from the courtyard to the tower, she didn't so much as stumble as they touched down onto the floor.

"Ah, Mistress Rose," Gnarl said, and not without a trace of sarcasm either, "Couldn't stay away, could you?"

"I've only come to speak to my son for awhile, Gnarl," Rose said, "Then I'll-"

"Witch Boy!" Kelda cheered from the stairs, "We were wondering when you'd be back! Gnarl kicked us all out of the scrying room after the fight. And what a fight it- _oh_."

The Nordberg girl stopped short, eyes flickering between the Overlord and his mother. It only took her a few moments to recognize her, though, since she'd seen her enough times as a child.

"You've brought your mum home," she stated the obvious, too stunned to do more than that.

Rose arched a fine brow and tilted her head to the side, favouring her son with a quizzical expression. He wasn't sure why, but he was suddenly embarrassed, and he rubbed the back of his neck.

"Ohh, who's here? That creepy old woman?" Juno crowded up behind where Kelda had stopped short on the stairs, "I hope you're not keeping _her_, honey. And that you plan on taking a _bath_."

"This is my _mother_," the Overlord snapped. Juno sucked in a breath through her teeth and winced.

"She was the former Overlord's Mistress, was she not?" Dark Fay breezed past both humans, unintimidated by Rose.

"He certainly has a _type_, eh?" Gnarl said to Rose.

"Takes after his father," Rose said dryly, her lips twitching into a smirk.

"Everyone, _enough_," he waved a hand authoritatively, "I need some privacy for once. You girls, _upstairs_. Minions, _out_. I want this throne room _cleared_."

"Of course, Sire," Gnarl said. There was an uncharacteristic growl in his voice, but he let the old minions sour attitude slide. Kelda looked a bit insulted to be ordered around as well, but she was the one to turn and shoo the other two mistresses upstairs again.

There were probably a few minions still around, as they were impossible to fully police, but it was noticeably quieter once a majority of them had gone.

"_Three_ mistresses, son?"

"That isn't what you wanted to talk about, is it?" he protested. He wasn't about to have a conversation about his mistresses with his mother. That was just... _no_.

She sighed and shook her head, "No. It isn't. I feel I owe you some kind of explanation, but I don't know that it will make a difference."

"Doubtful," he admitted, "But I think I'd like to hear it."

Rose frowned and looked away a moment, gathering her thoughts.

"The worst, I think, was that I was never able to tell him I was with child," she began, "He was back and forth so frequently, I didn't always cross paths with him. Then he stopped coming back, but he'd been gone for long stretches before. It's not all sitting on a throne and kicking minions, as I'm sure you're well aware."

Her smirk was faint, and he didn't think she even noticed his slight nod. While his mother was something of a stranger, his father was nothing short of a legend. She had his rapt attention.

"Then Gnarl told me what had happened, and I... I didn't believe it, at first," she said, "I waited in that tower, heavy with child," Rose closed her eyes a moment and put a hand over her abdomen, "Until I realized that he was _gone_. Trapped, well and truly. I left, and while the minions protested vocally, Gnarl especially, they had no real means to keep me without their Master to guide them. I went as far as I could, to Nordberg, before I could travel no further."

Rose had started to walk as she spoke, coming to a halt as she left the throne room, the vast cavern the tower was nestled in yawning before her. There was no rail on the balcony, but if she was intimidated by the steep drop, her standing on the precipice suggested heights were one of the many things she did not fear.

"I gave birth to you in someone's stable in the middle of the night, driven inside by a blizzard," she said with a quiet laugh, "It was quite an adjustment, from living in opulence to _that_. And you were such a sweet little baby. You hardly even cried, you just stared at me with your big amber eyes. Just like your father's, the way they glowed. It was all necessity after that, of course. My magic was powerful enough to make a living off the villagers, though I made sure we lived a little ways outside of town. It turned out to be for the best, when the Empire started it's sweeping lawsbanning magic. Only made my business that much more profitable, since our cottage was right outside the Empire-installed magic detectors."

She paused again to turn and face him, putting a hesitant hand on his arm.

"I feared for your safety, but I couldn't travel with you," Rose said, "You were too obvious, and when you got older you started to... well. Manifest your birthright, I suppose. I couldn't bring down the Empire with you. And then you started asking questions. Why you were different, why the townsfolk didn't trust us... why wasn't your father there," her expression tightened some, "I knew Gnarl would find you eventually, and that you'd be fine for a little while on your own. It wasn't... it wasn't an entirely selfless decision, but it wasn't an easy one. You were all I had, the only piece of him..."

Rose looked away, fighting against some strong swell of emotion. It was an uncomfortable moment, realizing how deeply his mother _still_ felt for his father. Thankfully, it passed.

"I did try and warn you against the perils of this life," she said quietly, "But it seems I played my part in ensuring you achieved your goals instead. You don't know what a relief it was, son, to see you grown and doing so well. He'd be proud of you."

The Overlord was quiet a long while, digesting the story. She was right, in as much as it didn't make him want to forgive her for abandoning him, but he at least understood it now. It had been a desperate and almost impulsive decision, one that they both had to live with. Resenting her for it was a pointless exercise, and that only left simple acceptance.

"Are you?" he wondered.

"Of course," she said, though her expression shifted from soft to dubious, "I'm not sure about this _three mistresses_ business, though... isn't one of them that girl who'd follow us around in town and ask irritating questions?"

"Kelda," he said, "Yes. I brought her here when I took Nordberg."

"And how does she feel about being one of three?"

"She doesn't – well, it doesn't matter," he shook his head, irritated by the point she was trying to make, "I'm the Overlord. I can do as I please."

"Hmn," Rose looked unimpressed, "You were certainly raised by demons. By no fault of your own, of course. I'd like to meet these girls of yours."

"I don't think that's the best idea," he put up a hand in protest, "You told me your story, I have a better understanding of what happened, and now I need to get all this ichor off before the smell seeps into my skin."

"So you're kicking me out of your tower already?" she arched an eyebrow at him and he couldn't help but feel like a boy again in her presence. It was a frustrating feeling, to say the least.

"No," he grumbled, "But before anything else happens, I'd like to know what your plans are now that you've gotten your desired result for the... balance, or whatever all of that was that you were talking about."

He gestured vaguely. The Overlord didn't spare a lot of thought for that sort of thing – his purpose was to conquer, and that was as far as it went.

"You still don't trust me?"

"No," he said, "Not in particular."

She frowned at him, but it was a shrewd expression and not a forlorn one. Whatever softness she'd displayed during her story had all but dried up.

"Part of the reason I joined this order was as a means to find some way to open an Abyss Gate," she said. There was only a moment of hesitation, and his eyes widened by no small margin.

"To bring my father back?"

"To _release_ him," she corrected rather fiercely, "He was trapped there against his will."

"He hasn't found a way out," he said.

"That's because he was too dependent on Gnarl figuring those sorts of things out for him," Rose said, "Where would _you_ be without that manipulative little demon telling you when to jump?"

"Don't speak that way about Gnarl," he warned, "He never had a bad word to say about you. He might miss my father as much as _you_ do."

Rose narrowed her eyes some at that, but if she cared to contest the point, she didn't vocalize it.

"If that's what you're really up to, I'm not going to stop you," he said, "I'm not sure it's the best idea, considering he might want his old job back, but I can't pretend like I haven't been curious about him. If you must talk to the gir- to my _mistresses_," he corrected himself, unsure of why, "Fine. But let me talk to them first."

"That's fair enough," she said, "I won't linger overlong, son. Have you told them your proper name at all? Kelda still calls you Witch Boy, which was what that entire town referred to you as. I'm a little surprised you haven't taken steps to correct her."

"I like that she calls me that," he said briskly, "Nobody knows my name except Gnarl, and he still calls me Overlord and Sire and all of that anyway. It's not all that important."

"Why do you like being called a derogatory nickname?" Rose frowned, quizzical.

"It's just... the way she says it," he waved his hand again, "Does it really matter?"

"No, I suppose not," Rose said, "Go on, then. Get cleaned up. I'll linger and... what is it that Gnarl always says?"

"Waft about."

"I'll do that," she said, offering him a small smile. He wasn't sure why, but it made him feel a bit better, and the feeling followed him all the way up to the private quarters. It felt like his boots were extra heavy by the time he reached the top of the stairs, and as usual, it was Kelda that crowded in first, tut-tutting him and waving him to sit.

"You're in quite a state, Witch Boy," she scolded, already going after the straps that kept his bracers on, "Let's get you tidied up."

Dark Fay was lounging in the background, watching but not keen to dirty herself, and Juno was somewhere in between, compelled to do as much (and more) than Kelda, but completely put off by the awful smell, and likely how the ichor was sticking to the redhead as well. Kelda, of course, wasn't the least bit concerned with a little mess. He sat still and allowed her to divest him of the lighter bits of his armour, certain he'd earned a bit of spoiling after such a grueling and drawn out fight.

"So will your mum be staying long?" Kelda wondered. She'd never been subtle, and he wasn't surprised her attempt to be was something of a failure.

"Not long, no," he said, "She'd like to meet you three."

"Well, I've got a few choice words for _her_," the redhead muttered under her breath, tugging rather ferociously at a stubborn leather strap. He gently pushed her hand away and uncinched it for her before letting her continue.

"I don't think that's necessary," he said, "Things turned out the way they were meant to."

"Turning into a mystic are you, Witch Boy?" Kelda teased. She did look somewhat mollified, though, and he hoped that meant she wouldn't go off on some angry tirade against his mother. That likely wouldn't end well.

He didn't answer, but he did help with the heavier bits of his armour. As usual, she saved his helm for last, and since she was the only one game to be near him while he was drenched in ichor, she stole a kiss and winked at him once she lifted it off. The minions were already scrabbling to collect the armour and whisk it away for cleaning, so all that he had to do was wait for Kelda to disrobe and lead him into the pool in the center of the room. None of the girls were particularly shy, especially after the foursome, and he didn't even bother glancing at Juno or Dark Fay to see if they were scandalized. At the most, they might be annoyed, and perhaps even overcome their disdain for him being drenched with the goopy blood of some magical creature to join in.

Wishful thinking.

"That stuff isn't going to stay in the pool, is it?" Juno had deigned to sit on the edge, a bit closer, but she was regarding the globules Kelda was washing off warily.

"The minions will give it a good clean," the Overlord said absently, more interested in how his first mistress seemed to be thoroughly enjoying wiping him down with a cloth.

"So you're the ruler of the Empire now, right?" she deigned to change the subject.

"In a manner of speaking," he said, "It's not the Empire anymore, but it's subjects are mine."

"Well I hope you didn't raze Empire City," Juno pouted, "There were a lot of shops there that I just _adored_."

"It might be a little rough around the edges," he said, closing his eyes, "But it's _mostly_ there. I'm going to get back to it very soon, but after fighting that thing, I needed some time to recuperate. Maybe let things sink in a little."

"I wouldn't idle too long, my lord," Dark Fay finally spoke up, "Much as we revel in your company, it wouldn't do for the people of the fallen Empire to get the wrong idea about your position. You're the ruler, after all, not some force of destruction sweeping through and leaving them be."

"I've kept hold of Everlight and Nordberg," he reminded her, "I imagine they've got some idea of what they're in for. A day of letting them put out fires and cleaning up won't hurt anything."

"Right you are, Master!"

The Overlord jumped and Kelda squawked, hunkering in close to hide herself from the leering minion. He did have a knack for turning up at the right time, so much so that the Overlord was convinced it wasn't coincidental at all.

"Yes, Gnarl?"

"Mistress-"

"Don't give her that title anymore, Gnarl. It's awkward."

"Of course, Sire," he bowed his head, "Rose is poking about the tower and she insists you gave her permission to."

"That's right," he said.

"And will she be staying?"

"Not long," he shook his head, "But she could do with someplace to sleep."

"I'll see to it," he said. Gnarl did not, however, budge from his spot.

"Witch Boy," Kelda said flatly.

"Mmn?"

"I'm going to throw a shoe at him if he doesn't stop staring at my arse."

"_Gnarl_," he said.

"Hmn? Oh, right. Seeing to things. Off I go!"

"You really to speak to him about just dropping in like that," Kelda said, glaring after the wizened old minion.

He smirked and ran his hands down along her curves, "Later. Right now, I need help forgetting all of Solarius's overwrought speeches."

Juno made an irritable noise and moved in the corner of his vision, already on her way out of the private quarters. He presumed Dark Fay would do the same, as she would probably find speaking to his mother more intriguing than trying to irritate Kelda in his presence.

Kelda didn't speak until both were gone, "I'll do my best, Witch Boy."

He thought of something his mother had pointed out, and he opened his mouth to correct her and give her his proper name. She wasn't having any talking, however, and the hungry kiss she covered his lips with drove all distracting thoughts from his mind.

* * *

**AN**: Thanks for the continued support of this goofy story, guys! I really do appreciate all the reviews, and I'll do my best to get this story adequately wrapped up for you.


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